A mountain of wedding gifts waiting to be sorted.
Daniel and I spent one Saturday writing thank-you cards.
We laughed about the blender someone had given us despite the fact that we already owned two.
We disagreed over where to hang our wedding photograph.
And we finally decided to put it above the living room bookshelf.
It was the picture taken during our second first dance.
The one after the smoke.
I was laughing.
Daniel was looking at me.
Neither of us appeared aware of the photographer.
I loved it.
Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, Khloe called.
I stared at her name.
I hadn’t spoken to her since the wedding.
After a moment, I answered.
“Hello?”
She sounded different.
Tired.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “Can we talk?”
I looked toward my desk.
“About what?”
“The wedding.”
I closed my eyes.
“Khloe, I don’t want another argument.”
“I know.”
She hesitated.
“That’s not why I’m calling.”
